The treeline exploded with a sickening crack as the creature powered through it, sending splintering wooden shards the size of limbs through the air. The sheer shock of it sent Art tumbling to the ground, letting him narrowly avoid the first strike from the strange beast as he watched it twist through the air above him. It's fur was the colour of a quiet night, a void that seemed to absorb the moonlight, leaving its true form difficult to discern. It was not just black, but rather, the absence of light. Space seemed to distort around the edges of it, leaving a gaping hole in the fabric of the night itself.

  No doubt, it could have stalked him indefinitely without him realising. The beast's gaze, those unnervingly bright orbs in the abyss of its fur, held a chilling amusement—he knew he was seen as easy prey.

  Art scrambled to his feet, never taking his eyes off of his newfound opponent. The magical creature, eerily, did exactly the same.

  It had failed its first strike, now, it had turned into a waiting game.

  His heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat urging him to flee. His legs trembled, ready to bolt, but his mind screamed at him to stay, knowing that a single wrong move could be his last.

  Yet that decision would be fatal. Reason battled a fierce clash with instinct with every passing second that he and the beast circled each other, as he stared into its rich copper eyes.

  Those eyes... They were glowing against the pitch blackness of the night, their light was unnaturally bright, so much so that it disturbed the predatory image cast by its fur. He could not look away from them no matter how badly he desired to. The longer he stared, the more he felt that foreign sensation of bile climbing up his throat.

  His breath hitched in his throat. He couldn't tear his gaze from those eyes. A cold sweat slicked his palms, and his vision blurred. He was no longer in control; terror had taken over.

  At that moment, Art noticed something.

  The forest was silent.

  It had been silent from the moment he arrived, but this kind of silence was different. The wind stirred the leaves, a visible mockery of the unnatural silence that hung heavy in the air, amplifying the feeling that they were utterly alone.

  The Borderlands had not simply ceased its life cycle, it could not have.

  He could see the wind moving the trees and the foliage, there were certainly other creatures out there in the night, too.

  But the silence persisted, an oppressive void that swallowed all sound, as if the forest itself had been muted. It felt less like a lack of noise and more like a suppression of it, a tangible force radiating from the creature.

  Its shoulders hunched down again, lurking, settling in to enter the second round of the fight.

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  No, this isn't a fight. It's playing with me...

  A wave of fear washed over him, renewed by the sensation of looking into the beasts eyes, instantly drying his mouth and sending a cold sweat trickling down his spine. It cocked its head to the side as if to ask him, 'Do you truly think you will survive this?'. As it did so, Art noticed something...

  It had a second set of eyes, the same rich yellowy copper as the first, set much further back on the sides of its skull. He had not seen them until now because they had not been opened.

  His mind raced, desperately searching for any scrap of knowledge, any weakness he could exploit. But the creature was a blank slate, an enigma.

  Nothing came.

  They circled one another again and again, he lost count of how many times he had tensed up, preparing for it to strike at only the slightest twitch of its muscles, yet it only watched him, edging closer and closer with each lap of the clearing.

  His legs weakened by the second. Until recently, fear was an entirely foreign emotion to him. In between his panicked thoughts of a gruesome impending death, memories of how he had felt back in Grenforth.

  Back then, he thought he feared what Jorin could do, how he could take away his wealth, and his comforts. How he could leave Art to face the world alone, with none of the backing and all the finer things saved for the imperial elite.

  Now, he realised, that was not fear, it never was. It was comfort.

  Even in the most uncertain moments in the Beaumont Duchy, he was wrapped so tightly in a protective layer of prestige and influence that nothing could truly have harmed him.

  Pathetic. I truly am. How did I let myself fall so far?

  True fear, he thought, had finally found him. Perhaps it was some kind of universal justice for the way he had allowed himself to become? Or maybe just sheer bad luck?

  The sound of crunching gravel under his boot snapped his full attention back to the creature as it gradually slowed its circling movements.

  They stood opposite each other now, perfectly still.

  Realising he did not have much longer until a decidedly gruesome end, he took a long, deep breath, inhaling all the scents of his environment.

  The air felt clean as it rushed down his throat, tinged with hints of wood and earth. He relished in the sensation of his lungs filling, watching the beast settle down onto its haunches again.

  Finally, it launched itself through the air. It's enormous maw stretched wide, revealing long smooth fangs as it flew through the air.

  More and more thoughts rushed through his mind as it drew closer.

  After all this, he thought, only to die between another set of fangs.

  He did his best to turn from the attack, twisting and presenting his shoulder to the beast, hoping that he could buy himself just a little more time to figure something out if he could stomach the pain for a moment.

  As he turned, he looked out through the gaps in the treeline. His eyes landed on another towering, stony peak, dusted in the same grossly oversized trees.

  The thought of that distant peak, a beacon of safety, burned in his mind.

  Safe. If only I could be safe.

  Then, the world around him shattered. A deafening crack ripped through the air, tearing a jagged wound in the fabric of reality. For a heartbeat, a swirling vortex of nothingness hung in the air. He saw a fleeting image of a jagged cliff face, bathed in moonlight, followed by darkness. Then it snapped shut, swallowing him whole.

  The tear was gone, though it left its mark on the earth around it. Long, jagged cracks spiderwebbed across the hard-packed earth, radiating outwards from the small, crater-like divot where Art had stood. It was as if the very ground itself recoiled from the raw power that had torn him away.

  The beast landed in perfect silence, its massive paws barely disturbing the stillness of the clearing. Its head tilted slightly, it's eyes narrowing in confusion. Then, a flicker of something darker, something predatory, ignited within their depths. It wasn't a human expression, but something far more unsettling.